Among the unaffiliated, Crassus Ferro stands out as a Cane Corso who is thoughtful, slow to speak, and absolutely the last word in any room. Friends learned long ago not to interrupt Crassus Ferro near the bone polishers den, especially with a coin with a face nobody recognizes in hand. On busy market days Crassus Ferro carries a cracked keycard with one corner missing like a small flag, and stallkeepers nod as it passes. On clear nights Crassus Ferro stares at the sky as if waiting for something that hasn't come back yet, and probably will.